


Smoke and Mirrors

by ssclassof56



Series: World Enough and Time [7]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ingolstein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-25 01:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9795350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssclassof56/pseuds/ssclassof56
Summary: A past mission resulted in an unintended marriage for Illya and Faustina. Now she returns to Ingolstein to check on their annulment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal's Section7MFU
> 
> Artie & Victoria appear in The Round Table Affair

**Castle Ingolstein**

A footman dressed in trachten livery placed a tray on the table, bowed, and withdrew.

While the Grand Duchess poured coffee, her consort unstoppered a decanter. “If that doesn’t warm your bones, this sure will,” Artie said, handing Faustina a small glass. He watched her closely, arms crossed, as she considered the clear liquor.

She sniffed the glass and lifted her brows. “Schnaps?”

“Yes, indeed.” He perched his lean frame on the arm of the sofa. “And soon to be our gift to the world.”

Victoria handed him a cup of black coffee. “Every village in Ingolstein distills their own,” she explained, “but we've always been particularly proud of the one produced by the castle. Artie is convinced we should offer it for sale.”

“I'm telling you, it will rival calvados.” He looked at Faustina expectantly as she took a sip. “Well, what do you think?”

She inhaled and let the liquor roll over her tongue. “Ripe pear. Herbal notes. It’s very nice, Artie.”

A relieved smile split his face. He turned to his wife, saying, “You see, sweetheart. And Faustina really knows booze.”

“Artie,” Victoria said in mild reproof. The excitement in his blue eyes began to dim. “I do hope that’s not what you plan to put on the label.”

Shaking his head, he set his coffee aside and slid down next to her. “Baby, you’re the greatest,” he declared fiercely and wrapped his arms around her.

“Arthur, please,” Victoria protested, cheeks tinged with pink. She gently attempted to disentangle herself from his embrace. “What will our guest think?”

“An UNCLE agent? We’d have to get up awful early to shock her.” Artie nodded regally to Faustina. “Pray do pardon me, Miss Pemberley, whist I kiss mine wife.”

“Certainly. I shall avert my eyes.” Faustina turned to examine a nearby portrait while Artie thoroughly kissed his duchess. “You can take the boy out of Teaneck,” she advised Lutetia the 14th, “but you can't take Teaneck out of the boy.”

“So I’ve discovered,” Victoria murmured. She patted her upswept hair and found several blonde tendrils hanging loose. “Please excuse me for a moment.”

They stood as she left the room. Artie dropped back onto the sofa, his gaze lingering on the doorway, an affectionate smile lighting his face. Watching him, Faustina’s eyes grew somber. She looked away and drank deeply from the small glass clutched in her hand.

Her slight cough drew Artie’s attention back from the door. “Your message said you had news about my annulment petition.”

His shoulders tensed, and his gaze slid to her untouched coffee cup. “Can I give you a warm up?” he asked, reaching for the silver pot.

“No, thank you. I’d like to know what happened at the hearing.” She set her glass on the table and waited expectantly.

“Hey, did I tell you? Chef Grégoire at the Lodge promised to create a dessert with our schnaps. It’s gonna be bigger than Bananas Foster and Crepes Suzette combined.”

“Artie!”

He sighed, his eyes darting to the spot on her side where her Special lay hidden beneath her jacket. “They denied the petition for annulment.”

“You said it was a sure thing.”

“Me?” He tugged at the knot in his tie. “What do I know about the law?”

“You know how to get around it, which is exactly why we were counting on you.”

He flung his hands up. “Look, I did everything Mr. Waverly asked. I found the best lawyer Ingolstein’s got and put him on the case. It’s just that the court found you didn’t have grounds.”

“No grounds? That’s—ridiculous!” she declared, censoring herself. “It was a misunderstanding. When we signed that register, Illya and I had no intention of actually marrying.”

“As old Judge Harper once said to me, ‘Ignorance of the law is no excuse.’”

“A law your legislature just repealed.”

Artie shrugged and pushed back the hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Well, with the ski lodge booked three seasons out, can you imagine the sheer number of ‘misunderstandings’ we'd have? The wheels of justice would grind to a halt.”

“I can't say they're spinning too well now.” She took a calming breath, then met his eyes frankly. “The marriage has never been consummated. Surely that fact alone would convince them of our intentions.”

“That line of argument never came up.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes crinkled. “Well, considering the children, your lawyer would have looked pretty silly trying that tactic.”

“What children?”

At her tone, his expression sobered. “Yours and Illya’s.” He crossed to a desk and removed a photograph from the drawer. “Submitted by a friend of the court.”

She stared at the photo in disbelief. It was an enlargement of a color snapshot, a typical family grouping in front of what appeared to be a turn-of-the-century train station. She saw herself standing at the center, a tired but contented smile on her lips and a baby on her hip. Illya stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, his stiff smile indicating that he was still unconvinced they were at the Happiest Place on Earth. A gaggle of children surrounded them, their excitement and impatience readily apparent.

Faustina opened and shut her mouth several times. “Six children?” she finally exclaimed.

“Including triplets.” Artie tucked his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Ingolstein’s first set. We're very proud.”

She flipped the photo over. A typed caption was taped to the back. “Disneyland, 1969. Robert, Eunice, Edward, Lawrence, Tristram, and Xavier.”

“That sounds like a pretty good name for a prince. Except for the Eunice part, of course.” He blanched at the anger in her gaze. “Yeah, you had a pretty good case until that showed up. And there went the ol’ ballgame.”

Faustina growled in frustration and tore the photo down the center. Artie quickly refilled her glass. “Here, drink this.”

She downed the schnaps in one gulp. Then, with a torrent of multilingual oaths that had Artie nodding in admiration, she hurled the glass into the fireplace.

At Victoria‘s gasp, Faustina spun around. “I'm sorry, Highness. I hope it wasn’t irreplaceable.”

The Grand Duchess looked to her husband, who smiled at her in reassurance. Nodding graciously, she returned to the sofa. “There’s very little in the castle that can make that claim anymore, I'm afraid. I've spent the last few years learning that most of our priceless heirlooms are mere copies. The originals were sold off long ago.”

Artie sat next to his wife and draped his arm along the sofa behind her. “When we first tied the knot, I felt like a blot on her family escutcheon. Turns out I fit right in.”

“I presume Artie has told you about the annulment. I am sorry.” Victoria picked up both halves of the photo. “It looked very convincing. Do you know who sent it?”

“No, I don’t,” she replied tersely, drumming her fingers on her crossed arms. “But only our lab boys do work that good.”

“Do you think…? I mean, perhaps Mr. Kuryakin sent it.”

Faustina looked at the Grand Duchess incredulously. “Illya? Whatever for?”

“Well, perhaps he does not wish the marriage annulled.”

Faustina jumped to her feet, her voice rising. “There was no marriage. It was just play-acting. Smoke and mirrors.” Her waving arms gestured toward the photograph. “Like that. More smoke and mirr—.”

Her voice broke on an angry sob. Turning away, Faustina pressed her fist to her lips and took several deep breaths.

Artie and Victoria exchanged a concerned glance. “We’re not just talking about the annulment anymore, are we?” he asked.

Faustina made no reply. After a few moments, she turned back and gave a slight bow. “Highness, Artie, my apologies.”

Victoria leaned forward and said earnestly, “Tell me, do you by any chance play hockey?”

The unexpected question drew a short laugh from Faustina. “No, Highness, I can’t say that I do.”

“A pity,” she said, shaking her head. She smiled sympathetically. “I too know something about smoke and mirrors. Crown Jewels of colored glass. Arranged marriages.” She wrapped her hands around her husband’s arm, who covered them with one of his. “The important thing is to recognize what is real and to hold on to it.”

“That’s not always easy in my line of work.”

“Our offer still stands. You could come work for us here in Ingolstein.”

Artie nodded. “Your contacts helped open the door for the ski lodge. And the casino. For the first time in centuries, Ingolstein is legitimately in the black.”

“And I’ve never seen Uncle Freddy so happy,” Victoria added.

Faustina walked to the windows and looked out at the pristine alpine landscape. On the far side of the mountains, hidden from view, lay the newest and most popular resort in Europe, hobnobbing with a Prince part of its attraction. “I have been tempted to accept.”

“If it would help seal the deal,” Artie said, “we’ll throw in a seven-bedroom house for you and the family.”

Faustina shot him a wry glance over her shoulder. “Thanks, Artie.”

Victoria sipped her coffee. “Before you make any decisions about the future, I suggest you discover just who sent that picture.”

“Sure,” Artie agreed. “And I can have the lawyer start work on a petition for divorce.”

“Divorce?” Faustina spun around, the word exploding from her like a shot.

Artie’s tone was casual, but his eyes watched her carefully. “Yeah. I mean, that's the only option now, seeing as you don’t want to be married to the guy.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Faustina stammered, as the color drained from her face. “I guess I just hadn’t considered it.”

“I’m not saying it’s an easy process, mind you. It does require you two to submit the petition in person. But I’m sure you can convince him it’s for the best.” He smiled cheerfully and rubbed his hands together. “Yessiree, I think we can safely call you the soon-to-be Ex-Mrs. Illya Kuryakin.”

Faustina raised her hands, as if warding off his words. Then she sank slowly onto the windowsill, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

Artie reached for the schnaps, but at the shake of his wife’s head, picked up Faustina’s coffee cup instead. He brought it to the window and pressed it into her hands. “You got it pretty bad for that mug, don’t ya?”

Faustina nodded. At Artie’s insistent gestures, she drank some of the coffee, and the color began to return to her cheeks.

Victoria looked on in confusion. “I do not understand. Why then did you want the annulment?”

Faustina rested the back of her head against the cold windowpane and closed her eyes. “Oh, lots of reasons,” she said wearily.

“I bet I can guess one,” Artie said, taking the cup from her. “‘If you love something very much, you’ve gotta go easy with it—give it some room to move around.‘”

Faustina rolled her head to look at him with surprise. He shrugged and smiled. “It’s amazing what you can learn reading Esquire.”

Victoria shook her head and said thoughtfully, “All this time, I thought this was about your freedom. But it was really about his.” Her blue eyes flashed with indignation. “I think that is the most selfish thing I have ever heard.”

“What?” Faustina cried, pushing herself up from the window.

“What about poor Mr. Kuryakin? What say has he had in any of this? Perhaps he does not want his ‘freedom’ or ‘room to move around.’ Perhaps he did send that picture because he sees what is real and is fighting to hold on to it.”

Faustina rubbed her temples with one hand and laughed harshly. “I doubt it. You don't know. There were…words between us.”

“Then perhaps you have friends who are fighting for you both.”

She ran her hand down her face, her grey eyes widening with dawning realization. “More fool they then,” she said bitterly. “By now they should know I’m just smoke and mirrors.”

Artie shook her arm. “Hey, now, don’t get the the idea you’re the only one who’s ever felt that way. You think I didn’t wonder if I could hack it? Me, Artie King, the guy no dame could tie down, do right by a duchess? A country? A family?” He turned to his wife with an affectionate gaze.

Victoria, glowing with more than embarrassment, said, “We haven't announced it yet. It's traditional to wait.”

“Well, where I’m from, the neighbors usually know before you do,” Artie said, smiling proudly.

“My lips are sealed,” Faustina assured them. “And congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Artie said. “I’ll be sure to send some cigars and schnaps to New York at the blessed event. Unless, of course, you’re planning a more local address.”

Faustina squared her shoulders. “Send them to New York. I’m going home.”

“Good girl,” he said approvingly. “And I bet you anything that Illya, when he’s not kidnapping unsuspecting bridegrooms, has his own worries about smoke and mirrors. I mean, all of us have some sort of reputation to live down.”

“Or live up to.” Her lips curved into a fond smile. “My dour demolitionist. I’ll be lucky if my building is still standing.”

Faustina gave Artie’s arm a squeeze, then retrieved her handbag from her chair. Victoria held out the torn photograph, saying, “I’ll light a candle for you.”

“Thank you, Highness. And I you.” She tucked the pieces in her bag and looked up mischievously. “You know, I’ve always thought Faustina was a wonderful name for a sovereign ruler.”

The Grand Duchess Victoria Adelaide Dagmar Alexandra Maude Xenia laughed. “It would be in keeping with tradition.”

Faustina performed a shallow curtsy and headed for the door.

“Should I send for your car?” Artie asked.

“No need. I came by train.”

“That's a relief. You know, old George has never been quite the same since meeting your husband.”

Faustina stopped short. She turned back to Artie, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a Cheshire Cat grin transformed her face. “Neither have I, Artie,” she declared, giving a small wave of farewell. “Neither have I.”


End file.
